


Hope in the Key of F Major

by Glamourcat



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bard - Freeform, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:16:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glamourcat/pseuds/Glamourcat
Summary: The night before a crucial battle a company's bard gets a request from a grizzled veteran solider.





	Hope in the Key of F Major

Title: Hope in the Key of F Major

Author: Glamourcat

Date Completed: 8/10/2020 8:46pm

Part: 1 of 1

Warnings: General Audience, No Warnings apply 

Notes: This story was written as an introduction to the bard I played in a recent Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Unfortunately, Covid and terrible schedules for Zoom or Discord sessions suspended the game. I decided to continue writing for her as an original character. The world building is loosely D&D with some small tweaks. I may have more stories of my bard in the future. I hope you enjoy it. 

Keeping a lute tuned properly in this humid weather was not an easy task. The strings had to be loosened during travel as the wood swells in this oppressive heat. However, you never know when you may need to play so they needed to be tight enough that you could strum out a tune in a pinch. It was a delicate balance and required my full attention. So naturally, that was when one of the baby faced recruits decided to interrupt me. 

“Bard?” The young elf nervously approached me. “Could you play us something?”

I paused in my task and looked up at him. A blonde elf with blue eyes who looked barely old enough to have pulled away from his mother’s skirt played with his cap, wringing it in his hands. I stared at him long enough for him to realize that perhaps he had made a mistake. He started shuffling back to the campfire where the others of his unit sat. 

Perhaps I would be magnanimous tonight. I smiled broadly at the boy and he froze mid-step. “What would you like to hear?”

“Uhhh…” He stood slack jawed for a moment. “Something nice?” 

“All my music is  _ nice _ boy,” I admit, my tone may have been a bit acerbic. “What do you want to listen to? Something upbeat? Something sad? What do you want to  _ feel _ tonight?”

“Hope.” A new voice broke in. 

I looked past the boy. A grizzled veteran campaigner sat nearest to where the boy was retreating back to. He was a human, bearded, more scars across his face and arms than I could count. I lifted a brow at him.

“Hope?” I repeated.

“Aye. Hope.” The veteran nodded. “We gotta battle on the ‘morrow. Hope is what we need now.”

“How unusual.” I put my lute back down into its case and flipped the latches closed. Reaching for my violin case I expanded on my comment. “Most warriors want to hear songs about loves left behind, a girl to inspire their fighting, or about their glory on tomorrow’s battlefield.”

“When I was younger I would have asked for those things.” The older man acknowledged. “But I am far more aware of my mortality now. I’d like some hope that I will live through tomorrow.”

The young elf sat down hard, as if it had just occurred to him that he might die. Elves are so long lived I supposed it never dawned on him he could be made into a corpse quite easily in this line of work. The others around the fire shifted uncomfortably as they too, had to acknowledge this hard truth. 

“Hope.” I stood, pulling my violin up to my shoulder and tucking it under my chin. I swayed back and forth, the music already forming in my mind. Pulling power from the earth on which I stood I raised my bow and played. Slow at first, a minor key. Tentative, as if I was uncertain of what was to come. Then a soft major key, rising a lone voice against the dark. I swayed as I played. 

I took a step to the side, my soft major surging into something with more demand. Another step, another rise. A twirl, a step, a spin until I was moving around the circle of warriors sitting at the campfire. A reel, fast paced in the key of F Major filled the air around them. They could not help themselves. They moved. They swayed. The younger ones got up and danced, linking arms and spinning. This was the power of a true bard. We move people. We fill them with the emotions we want them to feel. We lead them where we need them to go. I delighted in this.  _ This _ was power. 

I danced and played, never missing a step. Never missing a note. I worked them up until they were all on their feet in celebration. People from other units, other campfires started drifting over. The ones who got close were pulled into the revelry. Those further away swayed and clapped to the music. I wondered for a moment just how long I could keep them moving. 

But alas, there  _ was _ a battle tomorrow. And if I was to survive it these soldiers needed their rest. I pulled the music to a frenzied finish with a trilled flourish and held my violin and bow aloft. I bowed to the crowd, a reflexive instinct leftover from my days in court. 

Some of my audience collapsed when the music stopped, my power no longer feeding their energy. The ones on the outskirts shook themselves and drifted away not understanding what had pulled them to me. 

Applause, a sound I have not heard in some time. The commander of this army had attached me to the healers tent to bolster their magics and soothe the injured. Applause is not something you hear from the sick and tired. I stood up from my bow. The grizzled veteran still clapped after the others stopped. I quirked a brow at him. 

“Thank you Bard.” He smiled at me as he dropped his hands to his side. “That’s what they needed. That’s what I needed.” 

“I live to please.” I nodded at him with the traditional closing statement I had always given my Queen.

I sat back at my original spot and started to pack my violin away. I became aware of a shadow next to me. I glanced to my side. It was the veteran. He crouched down next to me and whispered. 

“Can you make anyone move? Force them to when they don’t want to?” 

Something about the look in his eyes made me answer truthfully. “Yes. Anyone who can hear me I can sway.” 

“And they have you in the healer’s tent?”

I nodded.

“A waste. A waste.” The vet shook his head. “If we could amplify your sound you could turn the tide in our favor.”

“Bardic magic is a double edged sword.” I told him. “It only lasts as long as I could play. I’m good but even my fingers will bleed if I play too long. It does not discriminate either. If our side does not have their ears properly stoppered it would affect all and not just the enemy. I have yet to encounter a commander who knows how to effectively deal with these issues.”

The veteran dropped his head, biting his lip. “Such a waste.” He repeated before nodding to me and going back to his spot. 

I turned my gaze back down to my precious violin, a gift from my first teacher. I closed the case and latched it. Stroking the hard leather of the case I looked up at the unit before me, now settling into their bed rolls to sleep. Thinking of the battle tomorrow and how many of them I would see in the healer’s tent I whispered, “It is indeed such a waste.”

I wrapped myself in my own cloak and pulled paper and a pen nib from my pack. I had to write down what I played before it left me. Marking the notation was easy. I had always struggled with the titles however. My pen hovered over the top of the first sheet. My eyes found their way to the old scarred human. I watched him breathe as he slept. Turning back to the page, I scratched out, “Hope in the Key of F Major” and began to write the notation, a small smile on my lips. 


End file.
